- ترجمه نشده -The term autopsy actually derives from the ancient Greek autopsia,
meaning to see for oneself.
Julius Caesar's proved it was the second stab wound,
the one to the heart, that killed him.
Making it highly unlikely he had time to say: 'Et tu Brute?'
Not that anybody really cares. But there you are.
If it's useful, it's yours. 'Free gratis', as they say.
Do you want some pie? I'll never finish it.
Bloody Germans. Who invited them?
And these Anderson shelters are so damp and smelly.
I live just round the corner.
Ships that pass in the night?
Let's be having you! Chop chop!
Women and children first. Get into the shelter as soon as you can.
We'll leave them to it, shall we?
I don't even know your name. Lennox. Jane.
What's that?
Oh, him. That's just, um... Alfred.
Where are you going? There's a raid on.
I'll take my chances. I've got a bottle of beer in the... cupboard.
Oi! Get to the shelter unless you wanna get blown to pieces.
Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells http://UKsubtitles.ru.
aaaaaaaaa
Dr Collins?
DI Freddy Wilkins. I've been calling.
We've got a murder. Boarding house in Kennington. Come on.
I hope I didn't interrupt your evening.
Professor Stephens wasn't available.
Not in the least. I've been hoping for a decent murder.
I haven't got close to a crime scene yet.
Well, there's nothing natural about this girl's death, I can assure you.
Landlady's called Clayton.
The usual lot, shop girls, servicemen, some theatricals.
Lodger by the name of Ziegler found the body.
Evening. She's all yours.
Time of death would be a good start.
The onset of rigor mortis is variable.
So I can only give you a window in which death occurred.
Professor Stephens always gives a definite time.
Well, I'm not as experienced as he is.
So my opinion will have to be based on fact, not intuition.
Do we have a name?
Mary Williams. Let's establish a common approach.
Nobody should walk across this floor. No, it's all right.
We don't mind a little bit of blood on our shoes.
I'm protecting the crime scene, not your brogues.
And could I have that sandwich bagged, I'll need to examine it.
No need, Sir. That's mine, that is.
This is a crime scene, not a Lyon's tea shop.
Brady, go and clear the stairs or something, will you?
Right you lot, down the stairs, come on, Sir! That's the way. Keep going.
Keep moving. This is a crime scene.
Excuse me, Miss. D'you mind? I just need to get to my room.
I need to change my stockings. I'm sorry but...
Look! They've laddered right to the top.
On you go. Yes, fine. Everybody else downstairs, thank you very much.
Rigor mortis in the small muscles of the right lower jaw.
Elbow stiffening.
I'd say she's been dead between four and six hours.
Don't touch that, please. It may have been used to strangle her.
Don't upset yourself, Mr Ziegler.
It must have been awful finding her like that. I'll get you a cuppa.
It's always good to calm your nerves.
There appears to be some damage to the tongue.
Bloody Nora. And you are?
I live upstairs.
Mrs Clayton, who is this young lady?
Isn't she with you?
Right. Out! Go on. Get out of it! Go on! Get out!
Collect all trace evidence.
Makeup, hair brush, clothes, pillow cases, everything.
Hang on, Hang on. Professor Stephens doesn't ask for all these things?
Well, he should.
Are you the Pathologist? Yes. Mind if I ask you a few questions?
Yes. My editor'll give me a right bollocking
if I don't get a half decent story. One quote from you and I'm saved.
You're not the only one trying to make a good impression.
Go on, please.
Most girls I know would've passed out at the sight of that corpse.
You didn't bat an eyelid? Always had a strong constitution, me.
True Crime. Get it every week.
That's what I really want to do. Write crime stories.
Guy's Hospital! Quick as you like.
Get in then.
We're a bit shorthanded, apparently there's a war on.
Can't say I noticed.
It's the mortuary assistant's wedding anniversary.
So you'll have to do. Do what?
Your name again? Molly, Molly Cooper.
From the South London Gazette.
Trouble is Miss Cooper, nobody really wants to work in a morgue.
But the war's given us a unique opportunity
to expand our medical knowledge.
Horrible as it is.
You do have typing and shorthand, don't you? Why?
You'll need them. Just a few questions!
The victim? What was the nature of her injuries?
You can see for yourself.
Type up my notes as we go along. Erm, use that.
Your notes? I'm here to... Hurry up, I haven't got all night.
Right, ready?
Caucasian, female, late twenties, brunette.
Blue eyes, no birthmarks on the anterior aspect.
Small mole on the left shoulder.
There's a subcutaneous bruise to the neck possibly caused by a thumb.
And a strange odour which I can't place. Tongue.
Tongue.
Cross resembling a Swastika incised on the dorsal aspect.
There is a stamp. Ink. The letter 'M'. Right hand.
Been dancing then, has she? Excuse me?
The stamp. They do that to prove you've paid.
She must have been up the West End.
The Masquerade, The Morocco, one of them.
Bleeding minimal, gravity is the only thing moving the blood at this point.
Victim was well accustomed to sexual intercourse.
You can't talk about the poor girl like that.
She has external signs of venereal disease and chronic liver damage.
Even so, she was out most nights with freshly painted nails
and traces of previous dance hall stamps on her hand.
Mary Williams was a good time girl.
Corpse can tell you a lot if you know how to listen.
Night then. Thanks for the interview.
I'll see you tomorrow morning. Nine sharp.
You will? why?
I'm going to need an assistant
with good typing and shorthand and no objection to blood and guts.
You fit the bill. I've already got a job. Thanks.
I'll match your current wages out of my own pocket.
Come on, Miss Cooper.
I'm going to be at the heart of every important investigation in London
and you'll be there with me.
Can't think of a better education for a crime writer. Can you?
I won't be coming into work today, or tomorrow for that matter.
I know it's short notice, but I've decided to become a land girl.
I'm off to the country. Bye.
You must be the new girl? Charlie Maxton, the mortuary assistant.
Take this across to the photography department, would you?
Of course. What's in it?
Mary Williams's tongue.
Best not to get too attached to the stiffs, miss.
Just put it anywhere you like.
And you are? I'm Dr Collins's new assistant.
Bit of advice, don't wear anything you cherish to work.
Blood, innards, the dread brains. That's all I'm saying.
Use this, then throw it in the bin. Thanks.
What happened to her?
Husband bludgeoned her to death with an axe handle
and then claimed it was bomb damage.
How horrible.
Almost as horrible as the decor. What was she thinking?
And the saucepans were reeking.
Seems odd to chuck people in jail for bad morals
but not for being physically dirty.
Personally, give me a clean prostitute
over a dirty housewife any day.
The swine will probably get off
on the grounds his wife was a filthy so-and-so with no taste.
I'm joking. It helps in this job. I hope they hang the bugger.
I'm Issy by the way.
I should buy you a drink after work. It would be rude not too.
'There are three waves in an investigation.
The first is the study of the clues.
The second, is the study of the crime.
The third wave, is the study of the psyche.'
The suspects patterns of behaviour need to be taken into consideration.
We need to share information with other departments.
Psychology for instance. We can help each other...
Working solely with the police
is the most affective way of securing convictions.
Too many mistakes are still being made. With all due respect.
I fear the only mistake I've made recently,
is appointing you to the teaching staff.
You're only here because the war has taken our best men.
Nobody in this department publishes an article without my approval.
You remember that.
And smarten yourself up. You look like a vagrant.
That sounds like Professor Stephens all right.
He likes to be cock of the walk.
Y'see his opinion is taken as being indisputable.
They say he can tell the cause of death just by smelling a corpse.
There's not much about killing he doesn't know.
His evidence has sent many a man to the gallows, Miss Cooper.
The voice box fractured. Blood clot on the upper horn.
Pressure was applied to the throat like this while the victim was alive.
Not the scarf, then? No, manual.
Scarf wouldn't have caused a fracture.
The pressure was sustained, blocking the upper airway,
causing the victim to asphyxiate quickly.
Indentation of the thumb indicates with the right hand.
Lie on the floor please.
Trauma to the left abdominal flank suggests somebody knelt on her,
using the left hand to carve the Swastika into her tongue like so.
Thank you, Miss Cooper.
Only one thing doesn't make sense.
You wouldn't use a knife with your weaker hand, would you?
Could be ambidextrous? My cousin Alfred is.
He can write with both hands. Thick as a plank though.
Crimes like this aren't usually committed in pairs so it's possible.
Exactly, who's ever heard of Jack and Jill the Ripper?
Word is she had a different man back every night.
The other tenants heard voices coming from the kitchen,
but nobody actually saw the man she was with.
He was in the kitchen?
I want to go back to Mrs Clayton's boarding house right now. Why?
Locard's Exchange Principle.
The most important factor in the development of forensic science.
Exchange of evidence. If the killer was in that kitchen with her,
he'll have left a little piece of himself behind.
Even a fibre from his coat may help identify him.
I'd be happier with a witness.
Oh, this is much better than a witness, Inspector Wilkins.
Physical evidence cannot perjure itself, it cannot be wholly absent.
You too, Miss Cooper. Quick as you like.
Looks like a 250 pounder, what d'you think? Oh, bugger.
That's Wilfred Ziegler. The one who found the body.
Landlady said he was always pestering the girls.
Mr. Ziegler?
Everything's gone, everything.
Can we have a word about Mary Williams?
I warned her. I told her,
'Stop seeing those men. They don't respect you.'
But she wouldn't listen.
Are these yours? I collect them.
They're artistic.
Out of interest, how did you come by the name Ziegler?
My father was German. But I was born here.
What d'you make of that? 'I warned her'? Practically a confession.
I wouldn't say that. Seems to me, he liked her.
I wasn't asking you. I wouldn't jump to conclusions Inspector.
He's left handed, it's unlikely he strangled her.
And if the killer was ambidextrous, like she said?
She's got a name, y'know.
I think we can assume we've found the kitchen?
Although preserving the crime scene might be a bit tricky.
I think I know what the 'M' stands for.
Metropol?
That makes sense. It's a nightclub in town, mostly a young crowd.
Mary William's last port of call by the looks of it.
It's dated the night she died.
Why would he incriminate himself?
His name is Ziegler and there was a swastika carved on the tongue.
Lots of people with German names. Doesn't mean they're fascists.
If he was, he'd have been interned by now.
I'm going to check out the Metropol. See what I can find.
Mind if I tag along?
Ladies and Gentleman, the Metropol is proud to present
Mr Ken 'Snakehips' Johnson.
Got a light?
I don't want to ruin your night
but have you ever seen the lungs of a smoker?
Disgusting, swollen and blacked with tar.
A simple yes or no would have been fine.
You don't happen to have a light, do you?
Now that's what I call a gentleman!
Hello darling.
Bloody singles night apparently! Nobody wants to come forward.
They're all worried their wives or husbands will know they've been out
painting the town red.
We don't even know if she met her killer here.
I don't follow. You want to know what soap we use?
It has a very distinctive smell.
That's because it's scraps. Mixed into a bar.
Like the government said we should. Which kinds?
We use whatever we have. Pilot and Sunlight.
And to be honest, I add a bit of coconut oil. I like the smell.
Thank you. The killer washed his hands here, I'm positive.
Brady! Guv?
I want to see everybody in the building who was here last night.
Everyone! Now! Consider it done.
Ooh, You look Ritzy.
Sorry I'm late. Bloody Nazis bombed our crime scene.
I've had enough of this blitz, haven't you?
It's completely ruining my social life.
They even set up a makeshift morgue at the back of my house.
As if I don't get enough of it at work. Of course, a bomb hits it
and there's legs and arms and god knows what else
all over my mother's azaleas. Said she'll never eat red meat again.
How are you settling in? So far, so good.
My worry is how will we ever find a husband stinking of dead people?
I don't want a husband. I want excitement.
In a morgue? I want to be at every crime scene,
every autopsy, every trial. I can get some great ideas for stories.
I want to be a writer, y'see.
In the meantime, we've been rationed long enough, let's live a little.
Madam, I'll be two minutes, all right?
Most seem to have a convincing alibi.
Brady's going to check them out.
But there are three that cannot prove their whereabouts
for the time Mary Williams was murdered.
Danny Hastings. He owns the place.
He's got a criminal record from a few years back.
She was seen dancing with that soldier. Private Norman Beckett.
He claims to have gone on to another club
but can't remember what it was called.
And this chap. Our final suspect. Pawel Rosanski. Polish emigre.
Lives nearby. Comes here most nights.
He left early and went home. Alone.
He studied at the University in Warsaw, escaped through France.
Now works in a munitions factory.
I had no choice. I had to leave. They were killing intelligentsia.
They will do the same here when they invade.
I can assure you Mr Rosanski,
they will not find it so easy to conquer Britain as they did Poland.
May I see your hands?
They don't look like you work in a munitions factory?
I scrub them. I'm not so used to the dirt, to being a robotnik.
So, what was your relationship with the deceased?
My relationship? I like to have a chat with the customers.
But I don't remember anybody called Mary.
And you were here asleep, in the back room all night?
My lodgings were hit. So this is home for the time being.
It's safer down here than Churchill's bunker.
Do you mind if I ask... Not that I'm being cheeky or nothing...
But why would I want to bump off my own customers?
And you claim to have never spoken to Mary Williams?
I spoke to lots of girls. What's so special about her?
And where did you go after you left this other club?
Straight back to the barracks.
We can't all be in a reserved occupation, can we?
Somebody's got to do the fighting.
Did anyone see you come in?
They were fast asleep. Now if you don't mind,
I'm sorry this girl got herself done in, but I've got a drink out there.
So what d'you make of that lot?
Rosanski wears his watch on the left wrist
and Hastings has tar stains on the right fingers.
So both probably right handed.
And Beckett? Beckett's a cocky bugger.
aaaaaaaaa
Her name is Iris Radcliffe. She recently had a baby.
Eh?
Green ration book for pregnant women and nursing mothers only.
Good time? Can't remember much about it.
What did mine do again? Er... Gunner, I think.
Of course he was. I always go a bit Khaki Whacky with the hooch in me.
Could do without Freddy being so grumpy. My brain's gone AWOL.
That smell again. And the tongue's been mutilated.
A Nazi Strangler?
Miss, I'd be grateful if you kept your opinions to yourself.
It's talk like that will make women hysterical
as soon as somebody looks at them the wrong way.
People are jumpy enough as it is.
Put that down.
If you have to pick something up, use rubber gloves.
It's a crime scene not a bloody church fete.
Guv!
There you go, make yourself at home.
What you looking at? Iris Radcliffe's tongue.
From the relative absence of bleeding and the lack of any inflammation,
I would say the tongue was cut after death.
It was the same with Mary Williams.
He must have come back to cut the Swastika.
How was the Cafe De Paris last night? Busy?
Who says I was at the Cafe De Paris?
Well, you were dancing cheek to cheek somewhere? You've got stubble rash
and you smell of Charter House aftershave.
Lipstick on your neck, your own, somebody was getting pretty amorous.
Cafe De Paris seems the most likely spot
as you don't have a stamp on your hand
and it's one of the few places that doesn't use them.
If you're so interested, I'll take you along next time.
Two left feet. Anyway, I'd prefer to have you at your best in the morning.
And I'd prefer if you'd keep your exchange principles for the stiffs.
Look what I found on the bandstand.
Jigger button from a double-breasted suit.
Not only that... Human hair, dyed black.
Not the victim's. We should be able to trace the dye.
So if you match that hair to one of our suspects, you've got your man?
Not quite. Hair's not as good as a fingerprint.
But could narrow things down.
So if Freddy finds a suspect with a double-breasted suit
missing an inside button, who dyes his hair. Then...
The basement everybody. Chop, chop!
Could all staff please make their way to the shelter.
Have you noticed he wears the same thing to work every day?
Charlie thinks it's the only one he's got.
And look at the state of it? Hardly the swankiest.
When I die I'm coming back as a man. It is so much easier. Isn't it?
I mean, it's not as if he isn't attractive or brilliant or anything,
but imagine the pillow talk, all murder and mayhem.
And who'd really want that?
Really? You don't wonder what effect all that cutting up
has on the cutter upper?
This is Mr Carver of Home Intelligence.
And Mr Granger, one of his investigators.
He's interested in the double murder you're working on.
Home Intelligence? We've been set up by the Ministry of Information
to report on the state of morale.
I see. The public are nervous, Dr Collins.
They see Fifth Columnists everywhere.
We'd like to make sure this case doesn't get too much publicity
and comes to a conclusion as quickly as possible.
Inspector Wilkins seems to think he's got his man.
Half German, probably a Nazi.
He leaves a Swastika on the victim's tongue.
The Swastika isn't only a symbol of Nazi Germany.
It's widely used in Hinduism, Buddhism.
It can be traced back to Ancient India and found in Roman mosaics.
But we're not at war with the Roman Empire, Dr Collins.
Your job is to support the police. Not impose your own theories.
We need this man locked up.
He'll be executed, Professor, not just locked up. So?
We're just sending faulty goods back to the manufacturer, aren't we?
Surely you can find some proof that this man Ziegler
was in that girl's room that night?
Unfortunately, the girl's boarding house has been destroyed in a raid.
So any transfer of evidence that may have happened is lost.
Transfer of evidence? Enlighten me?
Well, for example,
that cigarette butt that your colleague Mr Granger stubbed out,
could prove that he was here this afternoon.
Fingerprints, I presume? There may not be a clean print.
Because it's his brand? No. Pall Mall's common enough.
He means we might be able to tell his blood group from his saliva
depending on whether he was a secretor or not.
Not only that, Professor. It'll have traces of hair tonic on it,
the same tonic Mr Grainger uses every morning.
It that may just be enough to sway a jury.
Keep me informed of your progress. If you don't mind?
Probable cause of death is strangulation.
Small purple subcutaneous bruise on the right side of the neck,
and four small ones on the left suggests a right handed attacker.
Rigor mortis was advanced. She died within hours of Mary Williams.
Two in one night? I take it Ziegler hasn't confessed?
Not yet. We're going to hold him a little longer.
I'll need hair samples from him, Beckett, Hastings and, erm...
Rosanski. That won't be possible just yet, I'm afraid.
Beckett's been reported Absent Without Leave.
Little bit suspicious, don't you think?
I'll let you know when we find him. Oh!
Some of those papers you wanted.
An innocent man could hang for this. It wouldn't be the first time.
? I hear you knockin' but you can't come in
? I know you've been drinking gin
? You been cheating round with other men
? I'm busy and you can't come in...
Recognise any of them? Can't see any sign of Rosanski.
But that's Hastings, I'm sure.
Follow me. Try not to say too much, you'll stick out like a sore thumb.
Good evening. What can I get you? Gin and Tonic, please.
Would you like one?
Don't mind if I do. Haven't seen you here before.
First time. You one of them women coppers then?
I take that as an insult.
My Uncle Fred's in Pentonville for something he never done. No offence.
Just that the 'old bill' have been all over the place
since that poor cow was done in.
You're forgiven. I'm Molly, that's Isobel.
I'm Danny. D'you fancy a dance?
Private Norman Beckett to see you.
He was found in an opium den in Soho.
Regular apparently. Light, Charlie.
Greenish hue in the right iliac fossa.
That would take at least two days to appear.
He must have died just after we questioned him.
Overdose? Rare to die from smoking opium,
but if he's injected a derivative,
which I think he has, then it's possible.
Still think he's our main suspect?
This doesn't mean he didn't kill those women.
If nobody claims the body, I'd like to keep it.
Research into the affects of drug addiction.
What are you smiling for?
I'm just wondering what you're doing here?
We don't always get the best sorts, y'know.
I can look after myself. My aunt Queenie's got a punch like a docker.
Well, as your aunt Queenie's not here,
I'll have to walk you home.
It's a bomber's moon and no mistake.
Still you ought to carry a torch when you are out.
The Dilly's ain't safe these days.
With troop ships in and out, you gotta watch. They're using
the blackout to rape and murder, and nothing nobody can do about it.
It's the taxis I'm more worried about. They're bloody lethal.
To be honest, some people are doing very nicely out this bleeding mess.
It's not a bleeding mess, it's a war against Fascism.
Well, my old man died in the last one. Didn't do me much good.
And all I was left with was a whore of a mother.
That's no way to talk about your mum.
You didn't know her. She was from Malaya.
My old man met her when he went out there to work in the tin mines.
Tiny little thing. But what a temper.
Beat me black and blue, she did.
I can make the rest of the way on my own, thanks. Are you sure?
Sorry. I didn't mean to go on like that. It's all right.
I was wondering. D'you think we could see each other again?
It's 'Ladies night' on a Tuesday. Drinks are half price?
Maybe. But like I say, I'm fine from here.
I'll see you then. Oh, you can tell your friend Isobel
she can stop following us now.
Good night, ladies.
Very nice too sweetheart, thank you.
Come on, grab what you can. We ain't got long.
Blimey! What the...
Come on, quick. Let's get out of it!
So I've been thinking, Guv...
somebody might have put her here deliberately
hoping we'll think she was killed in the raid.
I don't think so. See what else you can find. OK, Guv.
I spoke to Danny Hastings last night. You what?
I wanted to get under his skin.
Like you said in your article 'Three waves'. The third is the psyche.
That was irresponsible and dangerous.
Well done.
His mother beat him black and blue, apparently.
Seen this, Dr Collins?
This girl. I saw her the night we were at the Metropol.
Swastika? Yes.
And the lack of bleeding suggests the tongue was cut after death.
The wound to the temple area, though, appears to be ante mortem.
Our killer may have got some of that blood on him.
Time of death? Vaguely. I'd say about 48 hours ago.
That's when we were in Hyde Park.
That's after Beckett died, but before we picked up Ziegler?
Guv!
When will you lot learn? Put it down. This is a crime scene.
Yes, I know. It's not the victim's, she's still got hers.
That could belong to our killer.
Specks of blood on the visor. Let's get it back to the lab.
Hopefully, we'll find some saliva on it.
And if it matches Ziegler's, that'll be the nail in his coffin.
Don't you find it strange he keeps dropping these cards about?
Excuse me! Excuse me!
A young woman was attacked round here last night.
Did you see anything? Maybe. But we can't talk here.
I was with a regular. In the alley behind the department store.
That's where we usually go. I saw he had stains on his jacket,
so I says to him, 'What's that then?'
He says a man came out the dark with blood on his hands
and ran straight into him. This regular, what's his name?
My customers hear I'm bandying their names about, I'll lose trade.
Not to mention the 'old bill'.
I can't go to prison, I wouldn't last a week in there.
We'll keep you out of it, I promise.
Well? I'm not a charity, you know.
This is just for information, right?
You sure you don't want anything else?
No, information's fine. Thanks.
He doesn't give a name. He doesn't have too. He's famous.
Ronald Terry.
He won't want people to know that he's a queer.
He'd be finished playing the hero then, wouldn't he?
My darling, don't cry. It won't be forever.
I'll be back soon, I promise.
Dry your tears, and remember, we're young,
we have the rest of our lives ahead of us. Good grief.
I hope this isn't a wild goose chase.
I wouldn't know, Inspector. That's your department. Ssh.
Not even this damned war.
Dear heart, these men have been in my eye line
through the entire scene! What on earth are they doing here?
You must understand, I didn't come forward about what I saw
because there wasn't much to tell.
Mr Terry, importuning means prison.
With all due respect, you're protecting yourself.
The police aren't interested in you. Are they, Inspector?
Three young women have been murdered.
The man you bumped into may have killed them. He could kill again.
You need to tell the police what you saw.
If I give evidence, my career will be over.
This man you saw, what was he wearing?
Does this jog your memory?
Did he have a limp? I honestly can't remember.
Could you pick him out in an identity parade? I'm not sure.
Mr Terry, you were seen in the vicinity of the crime
covered in the victim's blood.
You're not only a witness, you're a possible suspect.
If not this man, it must have been you?
I suggest you take another look.
Perhaps. It could be.
Do you have somewhere I can examine the jacket you wore that night?
For this to work I need total darkness.
Turn the light out.
How did you do that? Luminol.
It reacts with iron stored in red blood cells.
I guess Terry needs to get himself a better laundry service, doesn't he?
Turn the light on.
Jigger button's still there but it's new, sewn with a different thread.
Well, what do you know.
I could see what you were doing. You intimidated him.
He'll say anything to save his own skin. At last, we have a witness.
He's a suspect too. You just said it yourself.
I said what needed to be said.
I'm charging Ziegler, that's an end to it. You can't. I'm sorry?
Terry replaced a jigger button on this suit. He lost one, we found one.
If the blood on this is the same as the victim's...
No murders have been committed since Ziegler was taken into custody.
If I release him he'll kill again and I can't live with that.
Wilfred Ziegler, I'm charging you with the murders of Mary Williams,
Iris Radcliffe and Wilma Grey.
Do you wish to say anything in answer to the charge?
You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so,
but whatever you say will be taken down in writing.
Charlie?
Looters. Someone must have left a window open.
The gas mask? The one we found at the bombed department store.
Sweet dreams.
Wilfred Ziegler is not the only suspect.
The same men who killed Terry, killed those girls?
Ziegler killed those woman. I didn't do anything.
I get the feeling they don't want me
looking into this matter too closely.
If we eliminate Rosanski as a suspect,
the police will have no choice but to look at Hastings.
You keep this up and you're liable to upset me.
I think he's after me, Freddy!
Molly, get yourself somewhere safe. Now. Molly?
Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?
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